


Hand Print Tattoos

by fightmehemmo



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), michael clifford - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6061318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightmehemmo/pseuds/fightmehemmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone was born with a hand print tattoo of where their soulmate touches them for the first time. Michael was the last person out of his friend group to meet his soulmate and he wanted nothing in the world more than to meet them. He finally meets them, but it didn't happen how he imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand Print Tattoos

The sun was doing its best to shine through the thick curtains covering the windows and wake up the sleeping red head. Michael was covered in just the thin blanket on his bed, having tossed off the other blankets at some point in the night. His phone rang loudly from the pocket of the jeans he wore yesterday. He shot up, eyes bloodshot as he leaned over the edge of the bed, scrambling to find the device. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his black skinny jeans and slid the arrow on the screen.

Falling backwards onto the bed he held the phone up to his ear with his left hand and let his right hand rest on the tattoo on his abdomen. “What?” Michael grumbled into the phone, his voice rough and still filled with sleep. “Wake up, fucker. You’re going to be late for band practice.” His best friend’s cheerful voice rang through the speaker. Calum was always up early, working out and getting coffee. He was the complete opposite of Michael, but it’s what kind of made their friendship work.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get there when I get there.” The red head told the boy and clicked his phone off, tossing it on the bed next to him. He dragged his hand down his face, a groan pushing past his red lips. “It’s so fuckin early.” Michael grumbled and tossed the covers off of him.

He pushed himself up and his bare feet hit cold hardwood floor. His knees cracked and he pulled a pair of boxers on before grabbing his jeans from the floor and walking over to the mirror. He could barely make out any facial detail with how dark the room was but the tattoo on his abdomen stood out against his pale skin. Michael let his hand press against the black hand print on his skin and a sigh escaped from his lips.

Everyone was born with a hand print tattoo of where their soulmate would touch them upon their first meeting. As your soulmate touched you, your tattoo would burn upon contact. And when your soulmate died, it would freeze and fade away.

Almost everyone Michael knew had met their soulmate and felt that burning sensation. Calum had met his soulmate first, at age 14, at the music shop when she grabbed his wrist to keep him from walking into a drum set and he grabbed her shoulder to keep from falling over. Luke had met his soulmate at 17 when he bumped into her walking down the street. He grabbed onto her cheek to stop her from falling and she reached out, just catching his neck. Ash had met his soulmate just a couple weeks ago, and it was quite a shock. When he met his college roommate, they shared a handshake and their hands burned, both of their eyes widened. While it was surprising, Ash and Jacob made a good pair and it was beginning to make more sense as more time passed.

Michael was the lone one out of the group, the only one who hadn’t met his soulmate. He looked at how his hand completely covered the delicate hand print tattoo and followed the finger prints that scraped from the beginning of the tattoo to where they finally faded away at the curve of his side. His tattoo had always been the most peculiar he had ever seen. Not many people had a lingering tattoo, one that showed more than just a simple touch. He sighed once again and let his hand fall from his tattoo and he began shoving his legs into his jeans, looking around for a clean shirt.

-

You rolled out of bed, your sock covered feet hitting carpeted floor. A yawn pushed past your lips and you covered your mouth with one tattooed hand as your other tattooed hand ran through your hair. Holy shit, it was early. You squinted at the beam of sunlight that was shining through the crack in your curtains and flipped it off. Waking up wasn’t something you actively enjoyed.

You pulled your phone off of your bedside table and clicked it on, seeing a few texts from your best friend and that you had slept through multiple alarms. “Fuck! I’m late!” Your class started at 11 and it was already 10:15 and you had to get dressed, look presentable, and get there on time. You shoved your legs into a pair of leggings and tossed on some random t-shirt from your dresser, not really caring what was on it. Looking in the mirror you shrugged and finger brushed your hair, deciding it looked okay as it was. You slapped on a light moisturizer and managed to put on mascara before you really had to leave.

Looking around the room, you spotted your bag next to your shoes. You shoved your feet into your Toms and slung the bag over your shoulder. You grabbed your ID and tossed it over your neck before walking out the front door into the sunshine.

The walk to the college wasn’t a long one and it was something you got used to when you started living off campus a year ago. It was just 1 mile, over the bridge, and another 5 minutes of walking. The one thing you really hadn’t gotten used to were the stares you got every day on that 20 minute walk. Your tattoo was different, you were the first to admit it, but you didn’t understand why everyone had to stare and point. Your tattoo covered both of your hands, with your soulmates hand prints starting at your mid forearms and covering the rest of your arm all the way down to the tips of your fingers.

Every day, all eyes were on you as you raised your hand in class or when you were getting groceries at the grocery store. It was almost sickening how everyone had their own unique tattoo but they were always judging yours.

You pulled your phone out of your bag, checking the time and panicking when you noticed that you were definitely going to be late. You tossed your phone back into your bag and sped up, passing a few people and stepping onto the bridge. It was already 10:50 and you had to get to class on time. It was one of the only classes you actually liked.

Michael’s phone vibrated in his pocket just as he stepped on to the bridge. A groan pushed past his lips and he ripped the phone out of his pocket. He slid the arrow on the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “I’ll be there soon. Shut up.” The red head clicked off the phone and shoved the device back into his pocket. The wind blew his hair into his eyes and he simply shook his head to clear his view. That’s when he saw the prettiest face he had ever seen; your face.

His green eyes grew as he took in all the details he could about you. Noticing your red Coca-Cola shirt and green Toms, the brown bag slung over your shoulder, and the blue lanyard around your neck. A chuckle pushed past his lips at how mismatched she was. It was almost exactly how he was. He looked down at his own blue Vans tshirt and yellow Converse and grinned to himself, biting down on his lower lip. Your hair was still a little bit of a mess and his was the same, being as he had just gotten out of bed and left. Yet the sunlight was making your skin light up like he had never seen before. The two of you seemed so perfectly imperfect.

He was just about to walk past you and open his mouth to introduce himself when some stupid biker flew inbetween the two of you. You were walking fast, almost jogging right next to the railing of the bridge. Your foot caught on the peg of the bike’s back tire and you tripped. Your heart rate jumped and your eyes widened, just as they connected with two equally wide sapphire orbs.

Instinct took over and you flung your hand out, just managing to grab onto the abdomen of the boy with the sapphire eyes. But with the force of your jogging and how fast the biker was going, your body was tossed over the edge of the railing. Your hand slipped off of the boy’s body. You screamed loudly, your body suspended in midair.

Michael’s world slowed down and everything stopped except for you and him. He almost didn’t feel the burning on his tattoo as he lurched forward bending over the railing and grabbing you by the forearms. Deep breaths racked your body and you looked up, your eyes meeting the red heads’. And for a second, he was holding you. For one single second, you were safe.

Then you were falling. Michael’s grip faltered from the force of your body hanging and you slipped. His warm, yet rough, hands tried to hold onto you, gripping your arms as you slipped but it just wasn’t enough. His hands were empty, his stomach was pressed hard against the railing, and he watched as you disappeared under the surface of the water of the river beneath the bridge.

He had barely finished feeling the burning of his tattoo when it changed to intense freezing. Anxiety filled his body and he pushed back from the railing. His face twisted up in pain and goosebumps covered his skin. With shaking hands he pulled up his shirt and cast his gaze down to his abdomen. Slowly, as if it wasn’t really happening, his abdomen tightened and his skin burned cold and he watched as he tattoo began fading back to his normal skin tone. His whole world had just begun, yet he was watching it end.


End file.
